Begin Again
by internallydeceased
Summary: James Fraser starts his day like any other, but one event changes his life forever.
1. When We Collide

_**Oxford, England  
** **22nd September 1976**_

It's the little things that we rarely notice: those smaller, seemingly irrelevant memories that always lead to more memorable ones. We seem to forget that these events, when put in succession, can eventually change our lives forever. The aftermath can often times leave us in a state that we can never truly recover from, and can even change us into completely different people; people that we wouldn't even recognize.

These events are usually ones we often see in films and literature; we _never_ expect that they can happen to us. But the fact of the matter is that these things _do_ happen, and they can happen to _anyone._

One tiny fraction of a second is all it takes to change everything. Your whole world turns upside down: you can't tell which way is up or which way is down. **But** ** _these_ ****moments- they're** _**only the beginning.**_

It happened on an ordinary September morning, only there wasn't anything _ordinary_ about it. Or at least, not yet.

It started just like any other day: he woke up to the blaring of his alarm clock, promptly hitting the snooze button so he could sleep for just _one more minute._ Then one turned into twenty and he was going to be late for work… _again_. He jumped out of bed and hopped into the shower, grabbing his toothbrush on the way in hopes of conserving the few valuable minutes he had left.

After a two-minute shower (this allowed him only to rub shampoo in his hair while attempting to brush his teeth, then haphazardly rubbing the small bar of soap over his body), he hastily got dressed and was about to head out the door until he realized he had put his shirt on backwards.

With his shirt righted, he grabbed a quick snack on his way out the door and had practically inhaled it before he had even reached his car.

Ordinary. Normal. Routine.

He got in his car and started the long drive to work.

 _Ordinary. Normal. Routine._

Everything was normal.

 _ **Until it wasn't.**_

One minute he was singing along to the radio as he made his way through the busy streets of Oxford and the next, he was lying in the middle of the street, hanging onto life by a single thread.

A fraying thread that was about to break.


	2. Limbo

_**Oxford, England**_  
 _ **22nd September 1976**_

One moment. One tiny, _insignificant_ moment, and his entire world shifted.

It was a head-on collision with a semi: the driver fell asleep at the wheel and veered right in front of him. Jamie didn't have any time to react; it had all happened so fast.

It was more than likely that he wouldn't remember any of it, due to the damage to his brain. But his life was no longer in his hands.

First responders arrived at the scene almost five minutes-five _long_ minutes-after it happened. He was unconscious, lying in the middle of the road. The impact of the crash had ejected him from his seat, through the windshield, and onto the street.

The list of injuries were endless: from broken bones to open wounds. Some of the shards of glass from the windows had embedded themselves into his skin, but the rest was scattered on the concrete around him.

The biggest concern of the medical team was his head and spinal cord. It was impossible to tell what state they were in, given that the patient unconscious. They worked as fast as they could to get him on the stretcher and immobilized, while also being careful enough not to jostle him too much. Once he was secured inside the ambulance, he was rushed to the A&E.

He was only going to work. It was supposed to be like any other day.

None of this was supposed to happen.

* * *

They took him from the ambulance directly into the OR, assessing the damage and figuring out how to proceed from there.

Over the course of the next few months, he would be in that OR three times.

His condition was critical and he couldn't be under anesthesia for very long, so the surgeries had to be spread out, allowing his body time to recover.

He sustained multiple injuries: right leg broken in two places, once in the left; multiple cracked and broken ribs; the right shoulder dislocated and the radius of the left arm severely fractured. A back full of glass, some pieces almost three inches long. Some internal bleeding in the abdomen, but luckily the medical team had found the source in time to stop it. If they hadn't, it would have caused his brain to hemorrhage and, ultimately, could have ended his life.

There was some bleeding and swelling in his brain that they had gotten under control, but there was no telling the prognosis until he was conscious. Miraculously, however, his spinal cord had remained unharmed.

His right hand was the worst of it: the bones of his ring finger were almost completely shattered, the middle finger a compound fracture, the bone sticking obtrusively through the skin. They predicted that he wouldn't regain full range of motion in that hand again, but with lots of physical therapy it could come close.

The first surgery was getting the bleeding in his abdomen and brain under control, as well as the swelling. Then, debriding his back and several other places on his body, followed by cleaning every wound to reduce the risk of infection.

Unfortunately, that was all they could do for the day.

The next day was setting the broken bones. Everything went relatively smooth until they got to his hand, which took the longest.

The very last surgery consisted entirely of applying the skin grafts to his back.

After a few weeks, he was able to breathe on his own. In the days that followed, they remained hopeful that he would recover. They waited for him to wake up, each day hoping that today would be the day.

But the days went by, and he never did.


	3. As If In a Dream

**_As If In a Dream  
Oxford, England_**

He didn't remember the crash, the moments leading up to it, nor the few seconds he was conscious afterward. The next thing he knew he was in a hospital, staring down at his own mangled body. **  
**

At first he thought it all a dream. Only, the _dream_ never seemed to end. He willed himself to wake up, to end the nightmare that felt all too real.

Except it was real, and he was no longer inside of his body.

* * *

He witnessed all of it. Every single thing that his body of flesh and bone endured at the hands of nurses and doctors.

He watched himself waste away into almost nothing, and no matter how much he wanted or tried to pull himself from his comatose state, it was of no use.

He wanted to wake up, to return to his family—his _life_ —but he wasn't sure how.

* * *

He had been loved from the first, even when he was merely a thought in his mother's head. He had been forged by a love stronger and bigger than perhaps the Earth itself.

The second his parents had learned of his impending arrival, that love had only grown. And it wasn't just his parents, either. His older siblings, Willie and Jenny were so excited to have another brother or sister to play and share their lives with.

Then it was nine months of waiting and wishing and dreaming of who their child would be, and who they would become.

On the first of May, 1954, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser was born, the son of Ellen and Brian. He was a beautiful, healthy baby boy that possessed his mother's copper hair and as they would later find out, her ocean blue eyes as well.

Jamie had grown up on an estate known as "Lallybroch" in the highlands of Scotland. He and the rest of his siblings were all homeschooled by their mother, and when they weren't schooling, Jamie and Willie would help their father tend to the farm.

When he was six, Jamie lost his brother to pneumonia. Jamie had followed Willie around almost everywhere, so much so that Willie had begun referring to his little brother as his "shadow". Willie was his best friend and everything Jamie aspired to be, until it was all ripped away.

Two years later, he lost his mother and baby brother to childbirth. They were never the same after that.

The years following seemed to bleed together, as he found himself simply surviving instead of living.

Then, in 1975 when Jamie was twenty-two, he moved to Oxford to pursue higher education. He'd needed to get a job as well to keep up with his rent and tuition. It was difficult, juggling the task of being a full-time student while maintaining a part-time job.

He would work in the mornings, and attend class at night. He never thought that simply driving to work would drastically change _everything._

Twenty-three years of life, twenty-three years of happiness and sadness, love and loss—all of it, ripped away in a second.

* * *

As soon as they'd learned of the accident and Jamie's condition, his family had immediately booked a one-way ticket to Oxford. His father, his sister Jenny and brother-in-law Ian, and their son—his namesake—wee Jamie, had all come to visit him and pray for his recovery.

They would cry and beg with some unseen force for his life and recovery, all to no avail.

Jamie himself (or the spirit of him) stood witness to it all, trying to comfort his family and give them some solace, to let them know that he was there, and that he was listening.

Yet his words fell on deaf ears, and all he could do was stand there and watch his family as they prepared themselves for yet another loss.

* * *

Time passed but they remained much the same. Frozen in some space of time where there was nothing but pain and sorrow. As long as Jamie was unconscious, they would be stuck in that space in time praying to a God that they began to doubt even existed.

Jamie himself (or at least what remained of him) did his best to remain hopeful and fight for his life, but with each passing day it only seemed to become more and more futile.

 _I'm tired. So verra tired. I'm not sure I can do it anymore, I'm sorry._

The steady, constant beeping of the heart monitor at his bedside suddenly flatlined; And once again, the life of Jamie Fraser hung in the balance.


	4. At First Sound

_**At First Sound  
**_ _ **Oxford, England  
**_ _ **6th December, 1976**_

We never think the last time is going to be the last. We do things seemingly everyday until one day we just stop, without a second thought. It's only when we look back that we realize we no longer do something that was once a part of our daily routine; or that we no longer speak to someone who we used to tell everything to. Yet when we look back, we can't seem to remember that last time–cannot pinpoint the exact moment that marked the end.

But life goes on, whether we want it to or not. The minutes–hours– _days_ – go on without hesitation, waiting for nothing and no one. Each day we are given a choice: the choice to go forward and adapt to the ever-changing world, or get left behind; stuck in a place that no longer exists, and never _will_ exist again. We can dwell on the past, conjure those moments and memories in our dreams in an attempt to relive that one moment. Yet now, they are only shadows; hollow shells of what once was that will continue to decay until it turns to dust. We can try and hold on, keep the memory locked away somewhere safe in our hearts; but each day the memory becomes less and less clear.

So, what do we choose? Do we stay in the past where it's familiar and safe, or do we move on?

Do we choose to live, or do we choose to die?

* * *

 _Life_. He chose life. At the last possible second, when he was about to let go of everything he was and everything he hoped to be– he chose life.

It wasn't Jenny or Ian, his father or even wee Jamie. It was the voice of a woman who he didn't know; a _complete_ and total _stranger._

It seemed like an eternity to Jamie, and to everyone else in the room, but in reality it was only a minute.

A minute where his heart stopped beating and his brain was deprived of oxygen, but in that minute, there was a voice.

 _"Don't you dare give up now, you bloody bastard!"_

 _And then, a heartbeat._

* * *

The human mind is a strange and beautiful thing. Our brain—consciousness— is unique to each and every person. Folds of tissue that hold millions upon billions of neurons and synapses of electricity that allow us to have thoughts and memories, senses and emotions, among millions of other things. Our brain is the part that makes us _who we are._

Between the time someone falls asleep and the time they wake up, it seems as if no time has passed at all. You simply close your eyes one second, and by the time you open them, a new day has dawned.

But when our consciousness is _not_ bound to the physical body, it is suddenly very different.

Perhaps it's our soul; the part that makes you yourself and no one else.

The part that some religions believe goes on to live a life after death somewhere beyond this universe.

When we die, our consciousness—or whatever else it may be—no longer resides in the body of flesh and bone in which we have lived our entire lives. When the heart stops beating and the brain is deprived of blood and oxygen— no longer do we belong to the world of the living.

We go on to live a life free from physical harm, while our body is left to rot and decay until it is indistinguishable from the earth itself.

But what about when you are _not_ dead. When our hearts are still beating, when air still fills our lungs, when our blood ebbs and flows throughout. What about when we are _alive_ , but _we_ are no longer _inside_ our body.

For months Jamie was stuck in this state of being, a soul outside of the body but still connected in some way. It was like some sort of tether that bound him to his body, and once that tether was severed, death would follow.

Ever since that brush with death, it was as if that tether had suddenly snapped and pulled him back into his body. He was no longer having some out of body experience, but, he could still hear everything around him– _vividly._ He could faintly feel the needles entering and leaving his body. But he could not see. He was alive and he was aware of his surroundings, but he was still comatose. He was blind, _but he was there._

* * *

It was hell on earth. Being alive and conscious in some _small_ way, but outwardly he might as well have been dead.

He could hear _everything_. Every time Jenny sobbed and begged for her brother's return, he would scream that he was there and that he was _trying,_ but she could not hear him. Nor could his father or anyone else for that matter.

Jamie was being held prisoner in his own body—his own _mind_. And it was _exhausting._

But, there was one tiny ray of hope in the never ending abyss of black; _Claire_.

From what he could put together, she was a new resident that had been assigned to his case. The first time he ever heard her voice was when he was dying, and it was like that one missing piece in a puzzle that suddenly fell into place, completing the picture.

She came by every day after that, apparently she was a new resident that had been assigned to his case.

And every day he looked forward to when she would come into that room and check his vitals while speaking to him as if he were awake, and not some vegetable lying in a hospital bed.

Once Claire entered Jamie's life, he wanted nothing more than to wake up and see the woman who possessed that _beautiful_ voice. It was then that Jamie was determined to fight, and _win_.

* * *

"Good morning, Jamie!" Claire chirped as she came into his room. During the past few weeks, Jamie had made huge strides towards his recovery. He had improved so much within such little time that the rest of Claire's colleagues had taken to calling her a miracle worker.

"I don't know if you can hear me but, could you do me a favor and wake up? Because for as many strides as you're making, none of it will really matter until you wake up, and that's when the real work begins." She had righted the blankets on his bed, pulling the blanket up towards his chest and tucking him in like a small child.

"And, it really would make a lot of people happy…" She placed her stethoscope back around her neck and began to head into the hall again, but paused in the doorway. "And i'm not just talking about your family." Right before she left the room, she could've _sworn_ she saw him smile.


	5. The Beginning

**_The Beginning  
Oxford, England_**

He felt like he was floating, just beneath the surface of a lake, the buoyancy of his body bringing him closer and closer to the surface.

It was very similar to when you're half asleep and it suddenly feels like you're falling, but just before you hit the ground your body jerks you awake.

* * *

He didn't remember much of the accident, but he did remember the weeks where he lived somewhere outside his body—the _in between_ — and he remembered it _vividly_.

It was a sort of comfort, to wake up and be somewhat familiar with your surroundings. Not just waking up somewhere and having no idea how you got there in the first place.

Time had not been kind to him. He was once in peak condition, the perfect balance between muscle and fat. Now, he had been reduced to almost nothing. The only source of nutrition he had was a GI tube that snaked its way down from his nose into his stomach.

Lying in a hospital bed for months without leaving it for even a moment allowed his muscles to atrophy to nothing. He looked almost skeletal: the framework of his bones so clear and visible beneath the skin that he looked as though he would shatter if a fly landed on him.

His skin was once sun-kissed, though still pale. But now there was absolutely no color to him at all. He practically blended in with the stark-white of the hospital sheets.

His cheeks were gaunt, every socket and hollow in his skull pronounced as his skin clung to bone. His eyes were sunken into his skull, with deep dark bags just underneath.

He looked nothing like himself, he was quite literally a ghost.

* * *

Jenny was reduced to sobs when she saw him. The feeling bittersweet—because while he was finally awake after weeks of hoping and praying; they hardly recognized him.

It was different, seeing the man who she knew to be her brother inside this body. It wasn't the same as looking at his inert form that never spoke or moved.

The only identifiable features that were pure Jamie was the short copper hair on his head that had been shaved when he arrived, and crystal blue eyes. And even then he looked an impostor.

Wee Jamie was terrified of his uncle, he refused to hug or even look at him. It pained all of them to see him react that way, because his uncle was once his favorite person in the world. But he was too young to comprehend the tragedy that had befallen him, and what time takes from a person who is completely helpless.

They all looked at him differently now. His father, Jenny, and Ian. They were grateful that God had returned him to them, but they would never look at him without thinking about the accident and the aftermath. It would plague them for the rest of their lives.

It made Jamie feel guilty. Not that anything that happened was his fault, but he couldn't help but think that they would never be the same family they were.

But at least there was Claire.

* * *

"You're awake!" She exclaimed with her eyes wide and a grin so big it was almost comical.

She'd heard the news a few hours earlier, but gave Jamie some time to get reacquainted with himself and his surroundings.

Jamie looked up from the book he was reading—though he had no idea what it was about, he just enjoyed the feeling of it in his hands.

He returned the smile in kind, "So I am."

Claire made her way over to his bedside, quickly checking him over with her pen-light and stethoscope, making sure his vitals were somewhat normal before planting herself in the chair next to him.

"Well, how do you feel?"

Jamie exhaled with a small chuckle and placed the book on the bedside table. "Like I've been hit by a bus."

She laughed and nervously attempted to smooth the creases in her scrubs before returning her gaze back to him. "Well, you're not far off." She paused for a moment, and took a breath.

"Do you remember anything? About the accident, I mean."

Jamie sighed and closed his eyes, trying to think back. "No, not really. The last thing I remember was singing along to the radio on my way to work. Next thing I know i'm lying in a hospital bed attached to every machine on the planet." He lifted an arm that was connected to an IV—along with a heartbeat monitor clipped to his finger—in example.

It wasn't the full truth, but he wasn't about to tell her that his 'astral projection' —or whatever the hell it might be—observed nearly everything that happened in between. The last thing he needed was to be committed to a psych ward.

Claire frowned and then shrugged, getting up and moving away from the chair. "Well, perhaps it's better that way." She gave him a friendly smile and took another step towards the door.

She hesitated, turning back to look at him.

Jamie cocked his head to the side in confusion after she didn't say anything. "Is there something on my face?" He brought up a hand to wipe at his mouth before looking at it and finding nothing.

"No, it's just… Now that you're awake, there's going to be a lot of physical therapy and all sorts of tests. The road back to recovery won't be easy, and there will be times when you just want to give up. Just… try to remember that you've come back from the brink of death, and the worst is already behind you."

 _At least I hope._ She added, only to herself

* * *

She'd been right, it wasn't easy. It was almost as if he'd been reborn and had to learn everything for the first time again.

It felt good to finally leave that bed, but he could hardly walk. His legs weren't used to supporting his weight, thin as he was.

The first time he'd seen his reflection, he thought someone else was staring back at him, only to realize the wraith in the mirror was indeed him.

Everything took time, and Jamie was impatient. He'd already wasted three months of his life withering away to nothing, and now he had to work to get it all back.

But he was determined. Even if his body wouldn't do what he was telling it to, he never gave up. He learned to appreciate all the little things in his life, because he knew it could all be gone in a second. He'd been lucky. Lucky that he hadn't lost his life, or the ability to walk or think or talk. Because he knew that there were people who weren't so lucky, and people who would never have a second chance.

Not once did he take it for granted. He would return to the man he had been, it all just took time.

* * *

Therapy was thorough and rigorous, but it needed to be. Although surgeons were able to set the bones in his hand, he had no use for it while he was comatose. Doctors would need to move and flex his hand for him, so it wouldn't become stiff and immobile—so he would still have use of it in the hopes that he would wake up.

It was painful, working to try and get back to who he was before. His hand would never regain complete range of motion, but at least he could have some.

He would need to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't possible to be who he was before. The accident happened, and he couldn't just go back in time and undo it; as much as he might like to. His body bore plenty of scars that would be a constant reminder, it was a part of him now.

* * *

Claire visited him often—whenever she had the chance. She was no longer assigned to his case, and either way he would be discharged soon.

She always had some excuse to see him, but the real reason she kept to herself.

Jamie scrunched his nose and spit out the bland bread that he'd been chewing. "I've been here nigh on four months, and I still haven't gotten used to the food." He chuckled and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Technically seven," She corrected. "And I don't think it's possible for anyone to get used to it." Claire flashed him a smile, whiskey eyes sparkling.

He could stare into her eyes for hours and never tire of it. He wanted to drown in them.

"Aye, well. I think the first thing i'm doing once i'm out is getting a big, greasy hamburger with large fries. And a shake." He had tried to wink, but it turned out to be more of a slow, owlish blink than anything.

She closed her eyes and smiled, her mouth watering at the thought.

At that moment her pager went off, announcing that she was needed elsewhere. She looked at it and frowned, returning her attention back to Jamie

"Well, that's my cue. If I don't see you before you're discharged, just know that it was a pleasure to meet you, and I wish you the best of luck."

Before Jamie even had the chance to respond, she was gone.


	6. And So We Meet Again

_September 22nd, 1977_

One year ago today, his life changed drastically. In the year since then, so much had happened and he wasn't even there for four of those months—not _really._

It's surprising how fast the human body deteriorates when it isn't able to move or eat or drink. The only sustenance he could get was through a GI tube, and you could hardly call that food.

By the time he woke up, he didn't recognize himself, and his family had a hard time coming to terms with his appearance even though they'd sat by his bedside for months.

He'd been discharged as an inpatient five months ago, but was back at the hospital more times than he could count for his physical therapy sessions.

52 weeks, 365 days, 525600 minutes since he had broken practically every part of him, and yet it seemed like no time at all. Yet at the same time, it felt like forever.

You know how time seems to go slower when you're anticipating something? You're constantly looking at the clock and it seems like it's been five minutes since you last looked at it but when you check it again it's really only been one?

For five months Jamie's life was a lot like that. Working to get back to the man he was, but in the back of his mind there was a little voice saying 'what for?'

It took only three months for his body to deteriorate to what looked like a skeleton, but it would take a lot more than three months to get it all back.

In five months, he no longer looked like a dead man walking- at least, but he was still thin.

Everything had healed rather nicely— though there were plenty of scars that would stay with him for the rest of his life, reminding him of that day and every day since. All but his hand.

His hand was the reason why he needed the physical therapy. It had been badly damaged in the accident and while the surgeons were able to put the bones back in place—a rod here and there —and sew the skin back together, he couldn't use it himself for three months, so doctors had to flex it for him—that set them back a bit.

He'd made a lot of progress since he woke up, but his hand still pained him, but it was his heart that hurt the most.

Five months ago Claire said goodbye to him, in case she didn't see him before he got discharged. He'd been discharged less than an hour after she'd gone, and he hadn't seen her since.

He didn't think anything of it at the time, he would be back at the hospital enough times in the coming year that surely he'd see her again.

Except he hadn't, and he never got the chance to say goodbye. Besides, he didn't want to say goodbye, he wanted to say hello.

* * *

He'd decided to take another year off before returning to school, not wanting to do too much all at once.

He'd only just gotten the go ahead to go back to work, and he was happy about that. At least he could stay out of his head for a little while.

Jamie worked as a stable hand at a local barn that offered equine therapy and beginner lessons to kids who wanted to learn how to ride.

There had been a fair share of horses and other animals at Lallybroch, but the horses were always his favorite. Jamie loved to ride, even to just be around them.

When he moved to Oxford he thought that he'd have to get a part-time job as an office clerk or something of the sort, but it was a stroke of luck that he'd found this place.

After he'd gotten settled into his small apartment—at least somewhat—he drove around the city and even further into the rural outskirts.

He had no destination and the smallest sense of direction, he just wanted to drive through the countryside and breathe in the fresh country air.

It wasn't Scotland, but it did remind him of home.

He'd taken a turn at some point, and as he drove further down the road he saw it.

A rather nice looking barn with lush green pastures, and lots of horses grazing against the setting sun beyond the horizon. It all looked like some expensive painting that belonged in a museum.

It put a smile on his face, and so he decided to check it out.

Everything looked very high class and relatively new, Jamie figured it to be some prestigious stable full of snobby rich girls who thought they were better than everyone else because they could ride and do dressage.

But as he made his way through the grounds, he was pleasantly surprised to see that wasn't it at all.

He came upon a small outdoor arena, just off of the main barn. He noticed the grey gelding first, head low and content, listening to the silent cues of the rider.

The rider looked to be a child around the age of twelve, and the smile on the boy's face reminded Jamie of the feeling of utter joy he felt when he first sat a horse.

He only noticed the older woman after she had spoken to the child, encouraging him and making sure he was comfortable.

After a few minutes they concluded their lesson, and the boy's father came from the other side of the arena to help the boy down off the horse.

Only then had Jamie noticed that the boy couldn't walk, as his father carried the boy outside the arena to a wheelchair he hadn't noticed before.

He'd heard of equine therapy, but had never actually seen it.

That place represented a new start for him; after so much loss and hardship back home, this was a turn for the better, and something Jamie sorely needed.

He needed it even more now.

* * *

Jenny decided to stay with her brother in his small apartment so he wouldn't have to be alone. She figured it would only be for a few months at most, to help him get reacquainted with daily life, but Jamie was quiet and restless, and it became clear that she wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

But today; today could be the first step that would finally give Jamie a path back to the brother she knew.

* * *

Jenny drove him out to the barn a little before noon, glancing at her brother hoping to see a piece of the man she knew, the smallest hint of a smile, anything that she would recognize. But he just leaned against the passenger door with his head resting on the window, staring as the world outside passed them by.

She pulled into the gravel driveway of the stable a few minutes later and shifted the car into park. Jenny took a deep breath and turned to Jamie. "Well, we're here. Please call me if you need anything. Anything at all—I mean it, Jamie."

Jamie was already stepping outside the vehicle when she grabbed his hand, forcing him to look at her.

"Hey… have a good day." She gave him a small smile, and was grateful to see the slight nod and small smile he gave in return.

* * *

Jamie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, retreating into it like a turtle in its shell.

He stopped just in front of the white wooden sign, breathing in the crisp autumn air and tracing the familiar cursive letters with his hand: _Equine Healing._

"James Fraser!" the older woman: a middle-aged mother of three and grandmother of nine named Ellen.

She had the same name as his mother, and this Ellen reminded him so much of her.

She pulled him into a hug, being careful not to squeeze him too hard. "I'm so glad to see you! You had us all so worried! How are you doing?"

"Hi Ellen," He pulled away and shifted his eyes quickly to the ground before looking her in the eye. He thought about lying, telling her that everything was fine so that he didn't have to talk about it; any of it. Then he realized that this was a safe place, and he needed to talk to someone.

"To tell ye the truth, I've been better."

Ellen frowned and rubbed his shoulder. "I know. Come on." She gestured toward the main barn and they walked there together.

While he was still in the hospital Jamie was happier than he'd been in a long time, even with all the pain, IVs, and machines that seemed to become part of his body.

When he'd left, that happiness quickly faded and he slipped into a place in his mind where he could be alone.

It was only recently that he figured out why, though he should've known a lot sooner.

Whose voice had he heard when he was dying? The one that, for some reason, made him want to live. The voice of a stranger that made him want to work towards getting better, when his family couldn't?

Who had been at his bedside every day since he'd woke up, that listened to him without pitying him? The one that he tried to put out of his mind ever since, because he didn't want to admit it even to himself.

Claire.

He'd fallen in love.

* * *

He followed Ellen all the way to the end of the aisle, stopping outside the stall of a young grullo mare named Ember.

Ember arrived shortly after Jamie had been hired, rescued from a life of abuse and neglect. She was thin when she came off the trailer, though not emaciated. She was afraid of everyone, desperately trying to flee. It took them almost an hour just to move her a few yards from the trailer to the small paddock.

Once she was alone in her paddock, she paced the fence-line, snorting and rearing and throwing her head. Even though she had a tank full of water and a few flakes of hay that had been few and far between in her previous 'home', if you could call it that.

She'd arrived in the morning and hadn't calmed down until that evening, and the only reason was because she had exhausted herself trying to get out.

She stayed relatively calm after that, but she wouldn't let anyone near her, even if they were there to refill her water or give her grain.

It took weeks for her to get acclimated, and even then it was only just.

She allowed people to feed her and clean the paddock, but if they tried to touch her she would kick out at whoever tried.

The first person she started to trust was Jamie.

He would sit outside her pen, talking to her in Gaelic. Each day he managed to get a little bit closer to her, it seemed that she liked the Gaelic, almost like she could understand what he was saying.

And he'd sit there for hours on end in between chores. Finally, she let him touch her. She tensed at first, but Jamie whispered to her again in Gaelic and the muscles in her neck relaxed.

"See, you're alright. No one will hurt ye anymore, I promise."

The mare whickered and flared her nostrils in response.

Ember came to realize that not all people were bad, and that some of the smaller ones had treats in their small hands.

But Jamie would always be her favorite.

" _Hey, girl. I've missed you_." He whispered in the ancient tongue of his homeland, scratching just under her forelock (her favorite).

Ellen smiled, and left the two to get reacquainted.

Jamie had helped Ember, and now she would help him. Not out of any obligation or debt, but because of the simple and powerful bond that exists between man and animal.

* * *

Jenny came to pick him up several hours later, and she was overjoyed to see the smile on his face and that he was talking to someone.

He got into the car and closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

"Good day?" Jenny chuckled, turning on the ignition and putting the vehicle in drive.

"Aye. A good day." He said confidently, the smile still on his face.

* * *

 _October 3rd, 1977_

Going back to work was just what Jamie needed to get him out of his cramped apartment, and out of his head.

Jenny was getting on a plane back to Scotland today, leaving Jamie alone- really alone for the first time since before the accident.

She hoped she wasn't making a mistake by leaving.

"I'll be _fine_ Janet. Ye can call me whenever, if it makes ye feel better."

Jenny turned toward him and gently shoved him. "That means ye have to _answer_ , dimwit."

Jamie chuckled and pulled his sister into his arms, hugging her goodbye. "Goodbye Jenny, I'll be alright. Say hello to everyone for me, yeah?"

Jenny pulled away, tears welling in her eyes. She nodded, and forced a smile. "Are you sure you'll be alright? Because I can stay for a few more days if ye need me to."

"I'll be _fine_ , Jenny. Now _go_. Get back to yer husband and Wee Jamie, and give 'em a hug from me."

Jenny nodded and hugged him again, she hesitated for a moment, but finally turned and headed toward the terminal.

Jamie closed his eyes and tilted his head back, breathing deeply, relieved in some small way.

Then there it was again, that voice. Just when he thought he was getting back to the man he was before.

"I told you, Frank. I can't, it's over. I have my life and you have yours, now _please_ , just leave it be."

 _Claire._


End file.
